


Astalda

by I_have_a_Mycroft_of_my_very_own



Series: Evil Author Day 2021 [4]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Evil Author Day, No Beta we die like Balin, Thran raises Tilda cos she ends up lost, half-elven Bard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 22:42:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29461470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_have_a_Mycroft_of_my_very_own/pseuds/I_have_a_Mycroft_of_my_very_own
Summary: When a little girl and her mother encounter trouble in the woods, rescue for the little girl comes from an unlikely source
Series: Evil Author Day 2021 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2163834
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	Astalda

**Author's Note:**

> Astilda, Norse = godly strength/strength of the gods  
> Astalda, Quenyan = Strength /The Valiant (it's one of Tulkas names)
> 
> This is part of my Death Do Us Part fic, which is another offering here. Long story short there, Thran dies in Doriath. Elured and Elurin get found and raised by Galion and Ecthelion (who survived Gondolin falling), Galion and Ecthelion end up adopting Elrond and Elros when Maedhros and Maglor go off to fight the War of Wrath... 
> 
> Thran is also Radagast's grandson in this, although he doesn't know. ~since Radagast was using a different name when he was in Doriath and then he returned over the sea before Thran was old enough to know him)

Thranduil isn’t really sure what brings him out into the forest, well, that’s not true. The forest always calls to him, is always tugging at him, begging him to walk under the canopy and listen to the singing of the birds, and walk alongside the various forest creatures. He always ignores the summons, is always far too busy trying to keep his people safe and fed and sheltered, and a million other things that he never listens to the forest begging for its king’s attention. Until today, apparently, and he does not know why.

Still, whatever has drawn him from his duties, he obeys it. Steps certain and determined, even if he has no idea where he is going, or why. Even if he is apprehensive with how silent the forest grows around him with every step that he takes. The forest guides him, but it tells him nothing of what he will find at the end of this path. No forest he has ever been in has refused to answer him when he asks for updates, in fact, normally he does not need to ask, because he’s generally already been told, but not this time.

Eventually, the tugging stops, and his steps falter, leaving him standing near a fallen tree. He frowns down at the trunk, his ears twitching as he hears rapid and terrified breaths, that he knows accompany an equally fast heartbeat. The forest would not have lead him here, alone, if there was danger, but he is still cautious, even as he kneels down beside the fallen trunk and peers inside, his eyes widening and a gasp escaping him when he sees the small form huddled in the hollowed-out trunk, big brown, tearful eyes staring at him in fear.

“Hello, little one.” He murmurs, settling back on his haunches so he’s not crowding the child’s escape. “I promise I won’t hurt you.” He says, his voice as gentle and soft as he can make it. “What happened?” he queries, the child sniffs, their breath hitching, and the next thing Thranduil knows, he suddenly has a bundle of distressed child in his arms. He falls back onto his butt and wraps the child in a tight embrace, even as he shushes her, whispering soothing nonsense in the hopes she’ll calm down. Through the hysteric sobbing, the girl tries to tell him her story, he pieces together enough to know she was exploring the forest with her mother when they’d heard chattering above them in the trees and the girl’s mother had told her to run.

Thranduil knows enough about his own forest to know that the girl’s mother is probably dead and if not yet dead, then she will be soon, given his suspicions that the pair accidentally crossed into a spiders' nest. He knows exactly the odds of coming out of such alive. He says none of this to the child, instead, cradling her against his chest and soothing her to the best of his abilities until she pulls back from him. Looking up at him with a tear-streaked face.

“We’ll try to find your mother, little one.” He promises, even though he knows the odds are they will not even find a body. “In the meantime, I’ll bring you back with me, the healers will want to check that you haven’t been injured.” He says, even though he’s more than capable of performing that check himself. “I am Thranduil, little one, but you may call me Thran, if you like.” He explains, remembering the name his nephews had once bestowed upon him when they were around this child’s age. The girl sniffles at him and scrubs her hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ears, Thranduil manages to hold in a gasp when he catches a glimpse of delicately pointed ears. There hasn’t been an elfling in Greenwood for hundreds of years, now, not since Tauriel.

“Astilda.” The girl mumbles, rubbing at her face, her lip wobbling, before she’s crying again, tucking her face into the crook of his neck, he sighs and holds her close once more.

“There, there, Astalda. I’ve got you.” He promises as he maneuvers them so he can push up onto his feet, turning to make the journey back to the Halls. “I’ll keep you safe.”

* * *

The healers give Astalda a clean bill of health, aside from the fact the little elleth is traumatised, but Thranduil already knew that. His patrols return with no news of the little girl’s mother, but Thranduil had expected that. He thinks, perhaps, the girl expected the same, given the way she takes the news. It doesn’t stop her calling out for her mother in her sleep, though, but Thranduil already knows all about that, from the long months where Legolas would sleep tucked up against his side in the wake of his mother’s death and Thranduil’s burning. Astalda is younger than Legolas had been, then though.

Astalda cannot tell him where she lives, other than that they’re surrounded by water. The names she gives of those she knows are mostly meaningless to Thranduil, but it does let him know that Astalda lives among a human settlement. There are hundreds of human settlements across Rhovannion, all of them settled on or beside bodies of water. If there are elves, even half-elves residing among the humans in these settlements, Thranduil doesn’t know of them, which means they’re keeping themselves hidden. He cannot risk their safety or Astalda’s by sending messengers out searching for Astalda’s family. For now, he decides, Astalda can remain with him, when she is older she can seek out her birth family if that is her wish.

* * *

“Ada?” Thranduil startles at the familiar little voice calling him a familiar word, but one he hasn’t heard that voice speak before. He turns to find Astalda looking at him from the doorway into his study. She has been with them for almost six months now, and still, she is always uncertain of her reception whenever the adults around her are working and she wants their attention. He wonders what that says about the adults previously in her life.

“Tithen Maethor?” Thranduil queries, beckoning her closer, she scurries across the floor and he scoops her up onto his lap.

“Legolas calls you ada.” Astalda says, frowning at him, her little head cocked to the side. “Methloth and Methestel call you uncle.”

“Yes?” he replies, brow furrowing as he tries to figure out where she is going with this.

“Tauriel doesn’t call you ada or uncle, but she’s your ward?”

“Ah, Tauriel chose not to call me either of those things.” Thranduil answers with a heavy sigh. “That is entirely her choice.” He explains, even though her rejection of him as the parental figure in her life has always rankled, Tauriel’s entirely within her rights to refuse any claim he has over her, except that of being her king.

“So, I can call you ada?” Astalda queries, nervously biting at her lip and refusing to meet his eyes. He feels the smile pulling softly at his lips, and he doesn’t try to fight it.

“If that’s your wish, I would be happy to be your ada.” He answers, feeling his heart swell when her gaze snaps to his, little eyes searching as her face scrunches up in thought, eventually she beams at him, her eyes alight with her happiness.

“Does that make Legolas my big brother?” she queries, Thranduil laughs and nods his head.

“Yes, it does. Why don’t you go find him and tell him the good news?” Thranduil encourages, Astalda gasps and then all but leaps from his lap, little legs already running to the door.

“Thanks, ada!” she calls, as she hurries away. Thranduil smiles after her for a few moments, before returning his attention to his work.

* * *

“To what do I owe this illustrious visit, oh nephew of mine?” Thranduil queries, as Elrond dismounts from his horse, Thranduil’s gaze caught by the small dark-haired child looking around in wonder and curiosity. He can’t be any older than Astalda and, if Thranduil isn’t mistaken, is the future King of Gondor and Arnor.

“You never call me ‘nephew’ unless it is to annoy one of my fathers.” Elrond answers, a grin on his face, Thranduil hums and inclines his head in agreement. “In any case, I heard that you’ve adopted yet another elfling?”

“Ah. Your brothers are surprisingly bad at keeping secrets, despite the fact their entire lives are the most closely kept secrets we have.” Thranduil replies, turning his attention back to the little boy who is looking up at him in awe mixed with fear and nervousness. Thranduil’s always hated how intimidated little children are by his height, though it’s never bothered Astalda any. Pushing those thoughts away, he kneels down onto the stone floor, to bring him more onto the child’s level. “And who might you be, tithen pen?” he queries, smiling softly and cocking his head to the side, the boy sucks in a breath and glances up at Elrond, Thranduil’s not sure what Elrond does in response as he doesn’t take his eyes from the boy’s face. The boy, however, once more meets his gaze and swallows thickly, eyes wide as he tries to find his words.

“I-I’m Estel.” The boy answers, his voice shaking with nerves, Thranduil feels his face softening even further.

“Greetings, Estel. A star shines upon the hour of our meeting and you are most welcome to my beautiful realm.” Thranduil answers, placing his hand over his heart in a formal salute, Estel’s eyes go even wider if that’s possible. Thranduil chuckles softly before his head turns sharply at a familiar-sounding cry. He watches Astalda barrelling down the stairs to stop at his side, she leans into him even as she’s staring Estel down intently.

“You’re human.” She finally says in awe, Thranduil frowns as Estel recoils from the girl. Astalda doesn’t seem to notice as she turns to look at him, eyes pleading. “Can we go play, ada?” she asks, somehow managing to make herself look both adorable and pathetic all at the same time. He sighs and glances towards Elrond, who laughs and nods his head.

“You know the rules, be back in time for dinner.” He answers, before realizing something and frowning at her. “You may also wish to introduce yourself to your new friend.”

“Oh!” she exclaims, turning back to Estel. “Hello! I’m Araniel Astalda Thranduilien.” She states, her head held high the way Legolas has taught her, Thranduil has to fight not to laugh every time she does it. One day, it will look impressive, for now, it looks like a child playing at being grown-up. Estel has obviously been having similar lessons since he straightens up, his previous nervousness hidden away behind a mask Thranduil recognizes entirely as belonging to Glorfindel.

“Estel Elrondion.” The boy answers, Astalda manages to say that it’s a pleasure to meet him, before she’s grabbing his arm and all but dragging him away. Thranduil once again frowns at the expression he sees on the boy’s face, apprehension and fear before it’s hidden away behind that impeccable mask. Thranduil considers that to be something to concern himself with later, as he turns to pull Elrond into an embrace and usher his friend inside.

“We should perhaps find your wayward fathers and brothers…” he comments as he glances after the children once more to find Astalda dragging Estel off to visit the creatures that live in one of the protected gardens.

* * *

After a day of exploring her ada’s halls with Estel and getting to know the boy better, Astalda finally broaches the topic that’s been on her mind since they met in the morning. It’s after dinner when their fathers are sitting in her ada’s study drinking wine and talking, and she and Estel are playing in the adjoining room.

“Why are you so jumpy around everyone?” she asks, frowning at her new friend who startles, almost dropping the wooden horse he’d been playing with.

“Er.”

“No-one is gonna hurt you here, you know? Ada won’t let them.” She promises in a whisper, as his eyes dart towards the doorway. “I can keep secrets!” she says, holding out her pinky, Estel sucks in a surprised breath, his eyes locked on her pinky.

“You know pinky promise?” he demands, gaze coming up to meet hers, she grins and nods her head.

“Aha. Can’t break a pinky promise.” She tells him, throwing her head high the way Legolas says to do if she’s being serious. Estel frowns at her, but slowly reaches out and hooks his pinky with hers. “Pinky promise, never break a promise. If you break your promise, you’ll lose a pinky, promise!” She says, curious when he says a different phrase.

“Pinky promise pledge, if you tell a lie, I’ll stick a needle in your eye.” Astalda laughs when she hears his version of the pledge, a barely remembered voice chanting in her mind.

“Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye.” She answers, grinning at the surprise on Estel’s face.

“Why do you know that?” he demands, but she shakes her head.

“Nahuh, I asked you a question first!” she says, crossing her arms over her chest and pouting. Estel scowls, shoulders scrunching as he too crosses his arms over his chest.

“The elflings at home don’t like me because I’m human.” Estel finally mutters, Astalda gasps, her brows furrowing.

“But that’s stupid!” she exclaims, Estel shrugs his shoulders, uncrossing his arms to fidget with his hands.

“They said ada never wanted me, but he stuck with me.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s not really my ada.” Estel answers, furrowing his brows at her, Astalda laughs.

“Thranduil’s not really my ada either!” she says, smirking at the shocked surprise that forms on Estel’s face. “I’m ‘dopted. Ada ‘dopted me but he didn’t have to. Legolas says you can’t choose who you’re born to or who is born of you, but you can choose who your family is anyways. I chose ada, ada chose me. Your ada chose you, too!” she assures him with a bright smile. “If he didn’t want you, he wouldn’t let you call him ada!”

“You think so?”

“We pinky promised!” Astalda exclaims, pressing her hand over her heart in mock outrage, the way she’s seen her ada do, Estel laughingly apologizes, before querying again if she thinks so. “Why don’t you ask him? Ada never lies to me. Ada says that he’ll never lie to me and if he can’t tell me something, he’ll say so.”

“Fine, I’ll ask him.”

“Good.” Astalda states, before a new idea hits her. “You want to go meet my brother, Legolas? He’s fun!”

“Alright.”

“Ada!!” Astalda yells, turning towards the door to her father’s study. “Estel and I gonna find Legolas!”

“Remind him to send you both to bed… eventually.” Her ada answers, Astalda laughs and promises to pass along the message, before she’s jumping to her feet and hurrying out of the room, Estel on her heels.

* * *

Once the children are gone, Thranduil turns to Elrond with a raised eyebrow, the pair of them completely unashamed to have eavesdropped on their children.

“My concerns about whatever a pinky promise is aside, it appears you have a bullying problem.” Thranduil comments, as he and Elrond make their way back to his desk, where they’d left their wine goblets when Astalda had started her interrogation.

“Yes, it would appear so.” Elrond answers, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Children can be quite cruel.”

“Most of them grow out of it.” Thranduil answers, before frowning again. “This pinky promise, what is it?”

“It’s something the Rangers introduced Estel to, or his mother did, there’s not much of a difference. Anyway, I’m led to believe it is a human thing and the ‘most important oath in the world’, or something to that effect.” Elrond answers, shaking his head and sighing heavily. “Beyond that, I’ve never actually seen it in practice, only ever heard about it.”

“Right, and it doesn’t concern you that your son is threatening to stab people in the eyes if they lie to him? Because I’m concerned that my daughter is threatening to cut people’s fingers off if they break promises to her.” Thranduil says, rolling his eyes when Elrond laughs.

“I’ll ask Gilraen about it when I return.” Elrond promises, Thranduil sighs.

“I suppose that’s the best we can hope for at current, isn’t it?” Thranduil replies, before taking a sip from his goblet. “Oh!” he exclaims, sitting up straighter. “Have you informed Celeborn of the new addition to your family? I certainly haven’t yet found the time.” He says, hiding his smirk behind his goblet when Elrond scoffs.

“You just don’t want him invading. He’d probably drag Galadriel along with him.” Elrond says, Thranduil almost chokes on his wine as he laughs.

“Galadriel hasn’t graced my halls since I threatened to tell Celeborn baby stories about her.” Thranduil comments, grinning at the perplexed look Elrond shoots him.

“What did she do to deserve that?” the healer demands, Thranduil laughs.

“She almost told Glorfindel embarrassing stories about Galion and I. What happened in Doriath stays in Doriath, you know?”

“Oh, of course, how silly of her.” Elrond agrees, rolling his eyes. Thranduil huffs and downs his wine.

“You’d understand if you knew the stupid things we got up to under those trees.”

“If Celebrian’s tales of what you lot got up to in Lorien are anything to be believed, I do understand.”

“Oh, I forgot about that. Of course, she’d have told you stories.”

* * *

It was late when Thranduil was turning in to bed, he, Elrond, the twins, Galion, and Ecthelion had ended up drinking and reminiscing on days gone by. Not that any of them could get drunk, at least, not on human wine, which Dorwinion sadly was, even if it was still the best wine this side of the sea. Sometimes, Thranduil wishes he’d bothered to steal Melian’s winemaking recipe while he had been in Aman, or even while they’d been in Doriath. Before his uncle’s death, it just hadn’t seemed like knowledge he’d ever have reason to know. Afterward, it was knowledge he didn’t even think to want.

“Ada?” Thranduil pauses and turns towards the little voice, a frown forming as he crosses the shared living space to his daughter’s room, only looking away once to find the door to Legolas’ room closed.

“Tithen Maethor, are you not meant to be sleeping?” Thranduil queries, as he leans against the door jamb, watching Tilda frown at him from her bed.

“Do you care that my ma was human?” Astalda queries, her little head cocked to the side as she watches him, Thranduil sighs and pulls away from the door to go and sit down on the bed, his daughter crawling into his lap almost the moment he’s settled.

“Why should I care?” he asks, absently reaching up to undo the crooked braid on her head, fingers moving swiftly and gently as he starts to redo it.

“Because it means I’m not really an elf.” Astalda answers, Thranduil pauses, the revulsion he feels at her words is visceral and he has to restrain himself from physically reacting.

“You are Half-elven, Peredhil. You are special among our people.” Thranduil answers, frowning at her hair as he pulls it into shape. “Lord Elrond is Peredhil, too, you know? So are the twins. There’s nothing wrong with being Half-elven. One of my best friends in the world was Half-elven. She was Half-Maia, though, so not quite the same.”

“The Lady Lúthien?” Astalda queries, her voice soft and awed, the way she always gets when someone tells her stories of the great elven-ladies throughout history.

“Yes. She married Beren, a human, and they had Dior, a Half-elf.”

“The twins ada.” Astalda comments with a nod. “And they had Elwing, too, Lord Elrond’s nana.”

“That’s right. Lord Elrond’s ada is Half-Elven, too, Eärendil, who is perhaps the most revered of all of our people.” Thranduil explains, smiling at the look his daughter sends him.

“The Star of High-Hope.”

“Yes.” Thranduil confirms with a little sigh. “You could be fully human, and it would not change how much I love you, penneth.”

“Even if I was a dwarf?” she queries, Thranduil laughs as he quietly wonders where she’s learned of his dislike for dwarves in her short time with them, still, she’s not wrong.

“Even if you were a dwarf.” He agrees though he makes a face at that which causes her to laugh. “What’s bought this on, anyway?”

“Something Estel said, but it doesn’t matter.”

“If you’re sure?” he queries, Astalda nods at him seriously, before she smacks her hands over her mouth as she yawns. “Hmm, time for a little warrior to go to sleep.”

“Alright, ada. Can I have a story?” she queries, as she crawls from his lap and snuggles back under her blankets.

“Of course. Let me tell you about Menegroth.”

* * *

“Is that Lord Glorfindel?” Astalda whispers up at her father, her eyes wide with curiosity and excitement, Thranduil laughs and simply inclines his head at the six-year-old.

“That is Lord Glorfindel, how did you know?” he queries, keeping his voice just as low as hers.

“He has really pretty hair. Like spun gold.” She answers, awed as she turns her gaze back to the elven-lord who is quietly arguing with Lord Erestor. Before Thranduil can answer, they’re both distracted by an excited cry and the sound of running feet over the tiled floor.

“Talda! Talda!” Thranduil smiles as his gaze is caught by six-year-old Estel coming flying out of the main building and down into the courtyard, his hair pulled back into an intricate-looking braid, his grey eyes shining with excitement as he calls Astalda’s name. Thranduil sighs as he shifts in the saddle and carefully sets Astalda down so she can run to meet her friend.

“We are trying to teach him some refinement!” Glorfindel complains as they watch the children giggle like mad things, before turning to run away, hand in hand.

“There is plenty of time left for that.” Thranduil promises as he reins in his horse and dismounts, landing in front of Elrond. “Since I’ve been dragged here against my will, the least I can do is disrupt all of your plans.” He says, smirking when those gathered scoff at him.

“Against your will?” Glorfindel demands, raising an eyebrow. “I’d love to see someone force you to do anything against your will.”

“You mean you’ve forgotten the years we spent trapped in Aman?” Thranduil asks with mock outrage mingled with hurt, one hand pressing against his heart. “Glorfindel, I’m wounded!”

* * *

“Where are we going?” Talda asks as she hurries along after Estel, his grip on her hand is strong and she trusts him not to lead her astray.

“You have to see the waterfall!” Estel tells her, skipping a few paces before running again, Talda laughs and doesn’t protest. “It’s so big and really loud, and ada controls it!”

“What?” Talda exclaims, eyes wide as she stops running, tugging on Estel’s hand to stop him, too. “Your ada controls the _water?”_ she demands to know, she’s seen her ada control the forest, and sometimes, when he thinks no one is watching, he talks to the stone in the caves, asking it to move, to shift, or change in certain ways and it _does._ But she’s never seen her ada control a waterfall before! She’s never even seen a waterfall!

“Ada has magic. Although, he says it’s not called that, but it totally is!” Estel explains, pulling her along.

“Are we allowed to be here?” Astalda asks as they rush towards where she can hear the sound of thundering water. “I’m not allowed to explore alone!”

“The twins are with us!” Estel answers, stopping to point behind them, Astalda pauses and turns to look, blinking at the set of twin elves calmly meandering along the path after them, their heads bent together as they’re lost in conversation.

“They look like the Meths.” She whispers to Estel, who laughs and hums.

“The Meths are their uncles.” Estel points out, Astalda considers that for a moment, before nodding her head.

“Right.” She agrees, shrugging her shoulders. “The waterfall?

“The waterfall!” Estel exclaims, pulling her along again, Talda laughs as she lets herself be dragged away.

**Author's Note:**

> Eventually to be Barduil...


End file.
